His Little Girl
by GraceTheAuthor
Summary: Thranduil and his adopted daughter.
1. All That She Is

"Get a healer, _now!_ She's losing too much blood."

 _Noise, pain._

"Open her shirt, cut it open if need be."

 _The sound of cloth ripping._

"Oh, by the Valar, _move!"_

 _Cold, tired._

"Sidhon, clean and stitch her leg while I take care of her temple."

 _A pinching sensation near her kneecap_.

"She heals fast, even for an Elf, Aewiel."

 _Cool dampness bathed her face._

"I know, Sidhon. That's why we have to make the stitches small and tight."

 _Fading into blessed oblivion..._

The two healers bandaged the wounded elleth with gentleness and the utmost care. Sidhon, a green eyed ellon, went to the entrance of the makeshift tent.

"You may see her now, _heru en amin,"_ he said.

"My thanks, Sidhon," came the deep voiced reply. An elf with pale hair and ice blue eyes entered the tent. He wore silver armor, with a circlet of metal that held a gemlike stone of a color similar to his eyes in the center of it.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She is unconscious for the moment, _heru en amin,"_ replied the other healer, Aewiel. The dark haired elleth picked up the bloodied cloths and torn shirt shirt as Sidhon gathered up the medical supplies. Both healers bowed before leaving. The elf waited, counting to sixty before sighing and walking over to the elleth that lay on the makeshift cot. She had a white bandage that went from her left temple, all the way to her neck, stopping near her collarbone. Her once torn and bloodied shirt had been replaced by a grey high collared tunic.

Her wavy, mahogany brown hair fanned around her head, stray strands of it resting on her high cheekbones. Her normally rosy cheeks were pale from blood loss, making the dark blue tattoo upon the right side of her jaw even darker. She had made an oath, then had it inked upon her skin in Tengwar to remind herself;

 _I offer all that I am to my people-  
Daughter, Warrior, Protector._

"Erulissë," he sighed. "You brave, stubborn woman." He shook his head and turned, looking around the tent. Her weapons had been piled neatly on a small wooden table, her twin swords cleaned of the filth that had covered them, her bow next to her quiver of black feathered arrows. He ran a gloved finger along the flat of one of the blades. He'd given them to her when he'd begun to teach her how to use them. Yes, she may have learned all that she could from the other Elves, but she still had so much to learn-was willing to learn from him.

So he had begun teaching her-never once giving her any slack, wanting her to become fierce and deadly. As deadly and fluid in her motions as she said that _he_ was. She'd once told him that watching him fight was a treat, that he moved like rushing water; fluid, smooth, fierce and dangerous. Externally, he'd raised an eyebrow, but inside he was smiling. His little girl still admired her ada, it would seem.

 _"Ada?"_ the sound of her low, husky voice had him turning around to face her. Her grey eyes were tired as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

"I am here, _tinuamin,"_ he said, going to her.

"Am I foolish, or am I brave?" her voice held a mental anguish that he knew all too well."

"You are both, _tinuamin,"_ he replied. "But at the same time you are admirable."

"I didn't know that almost getting yourself killed was admirable," she replied.

"Sarcasm does not become you, Erulissë," he said, his icy eyes gleaming with some measure of amusement. "What I meant is that I admire your willingness to protect your people with your life. However, some part of that does concern me."

"How?" she frowned, the winced when the action pulled at her stitches.

"With Legolas still on his journey, you are all that remains of my family," he replied.

"But I am not by blood and that is what matters to the people," she responded. "They want someone who shares your blood to be the next in line. Not some commonplace girl."

"Need I remind you that your parents _were_ of noble blood?" Thranduil felt anger then. "And when I took you in, I had as good as declared you to be part of the royal family. Do _not_ degrade yourself in this way." She looked at him in surprise.

"I apologize, _Ada,"_ she replied. "I did not know. It's just that I feel that Legolas should not have left, that I will never be accepted as your daughter, no matter what I do." She hung her head, avoiding his gaze. Frowning, he reached out and took her chin into his hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Erulissë, you will ever be my daughter," he said firmly. "No matter what you do, you will never be cast from my heart or home. You do not need to prove yourself to me." Tears welled up in her eyes and she leaned into him, resting her face upon the cold metal of his breastplate. He rested his hand upon her head, a rare gesture of affection.

 _"Amin mela lle, Ada,"_ she said.

"I know, _tinuamin,"_ he replied. "But try to keep yourself from getting wounded like this again. I will not be able to continue your training." Her laughter was muffled as she pulled away.

"Thank you, _Ada,"_ her eyes were a bright grey, now, like sun peeking from behind stormclouds. "I will do my best." Thranduil stood, his eyes smiling at her.

"Get dressed," he said striding for the entrance. "We must return to the city before sundown."

"Yes, _Ada,"_ she replied, sliding out of bed.

When she had dressed and had something to eat (as per Sidhon's insistence), she strapped her swords to her sides, slung her quiver across her back and mounted her doe, Fainiel. She nudged her towards the front of the company to stand beside her father, looking to him. He returned her gaze arching one dark eyebrow. She frowned, then made an 'oh' shape with her lips. She took from her saddlebag and circlet similar to his, only it had a bright gem of clear silver, and placed it upon her brow.

The Elvenking nodded, then urged his mount forwards. She rode alongside him and made another oath to herself; She would strive to make her king proud to call her his daughter, with all that she is.


	2. Just Like Ada

_"Ada?"_

The sound of a small, shy voice had him looking up from where he sat at his desk, writing to Elrond. He was met with the vision of a small girl standing in the arched doorway. She wore a dark blue tunic with long sleeves and leather armbands, silver fabric trimming the rounded neckline and the belt tied at her waist, the ends of the fabric coming down in front of her black legging-clad legs. A metal circlet was upon her brow, bringing one's gaze to the long mahogany brown hair that was braided at her temples, and wide grey eyes set in the smooth skin of a heart shaped face. Her body was that of a six year-old, but her mind was nineteen.

Ah, Erulissë, his daughter. She was not his by blood, for her mother had placed her into his care, should something ever happen to her. And something had happened; she'd died in the Battle of the Five Armies twelve years ago.

"Yes, _tinuamin?"_ he set his pen down and rose from his chair. Normally he would be clothed in shimmering silks with a long cloak about his shoulders, but with no royal duties to attend to, he wore a dark green tunic, dark brown leggings and soft leather boots that made no sound as went over to crouch in front of the little girl.

"One of the elders said that I wasn't allowed to train with swords," she said, her features a picture of determination. "But they aren't my _ada,_ so they can't tell me that, right?" She looked to him in hope. Thranduil wanted to smile, but instead affected a serious frown.

"Right you are, _tinuamin,"_ he replied.

"May I?" she asked. "I want be good at swords just like you, and the bow, too." Hearing that warmed his heart.

"As you wish, Erulissë," he replied, allowing his smile to appear as he cupped her small face. "I admire your determination to do what you want in your life." The young girl beamed. She adored her ada, adored how fluid and fierce he was whenever she saw him practice sparring, and how kind he was to her. He may be cold, arrogant and seemingly uncaring on the outside, but on the inside was the hurt of the loss of his wife, and his love for the grey eyed elleth who stood before him.

Erulissë threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He hugged her back without hesitation, an action that would have shocked many; including the Dwarves who believed that he held no warmth for anyone or anything other than the jewels of starlight that he had reclaimed after the battle that had spilled so much Elven blood.

Then the girl kissed his cheek, the one that had been marred by dragon fire. She was the only one who could see past the glamour that hid it, and was never once horrified, disgusted or frightened by it. She thought his scars were amazing, a testament to all that he had endured.

"Thank you, _Ada,"_ she beamed. "May I go find someone to teach me, now?" Her enthusiasm made him laugh.

"Yes, Erulissë," he smiled. "You may." She squealed like the six year old that she only appeared to be and kissed his cheek again before running off. The pale haired Elvenking stood, that gentle smile still upon his lips. Erulissë was truly a gift to him, one that refused to let him sink into darkness and sorrow. He turned to the balcony to watch as she ran for the training grounds, the ends of her belt fluttering between her legs. A small smile tugged at his lips as he returned to his desk to finish his letter, thinking of how proud he was of his daughter.

Just something I came up with on the fly. I've been wanting to do this for awhile. I hope it's not trash.

Ada ~ Father

Tinuamin ~ My daughter


	3. Of the Full Moon

Thranduil was standing on his balcony as he looked up at the full moon, thinking quiet, somber thoughts.

 _Legolas has been gone for almost fifty years, now,_ he thought. _I'll never admit to anyone how much I missed him, if he comes back._ He smiled and amended the thought. _Except for Erulissë Ah, how she has grown._

Indeed, having only been ten when Legolas left she probably missed him more than she missed her mother. Now, at sixty years of age she was a beautiful young woman. Elves age more slowly than Humans or Dwarves. For every year, their minds age three, while their bodies age one. And physically, Erulissë was twenty-one.

She was tall and built like a willow tree with long, mahogany hair that fell to the middle of her back in waves, and stormy grey eyes set in a heart shaped face that boasted of high cheekbones and dark red lips. The only mark upon her face was a dark blue tattoo in Tengwar script, an oath she made to herself that was there for everyone to see. She was brave, loyal, kind and a fierce fighter.

Thranduil was proud of her, and even though she was not his birth daughter, they were bound by blood. She had made a blood oath to him to always respect him as both her king and father. And he had vowed to always cherish her as both subject and child. It was a beautiful bond that they had. Full of love, understanding and respect.

A rustling sound at the door to his bedchambers had him turning around. Erulissë stood in the doorway, biting her lip. Her normally creamy skin was an ashen color, and she looked tired as she walked over to him.

"What is it, _tinuamin?"_ he frowned, worried.

"I had the most terrible dream," she replied as she stood in front of him, slightly shaking. This disturbed him-Erulissë rarely trembled, even in battle.

"Tell me what happened," he demanded, but softly.

"I had this dream where we were in battle," she replied, grey eyes wide. "Our people were falling left and right, and the full moon was red like blood. You were on your elk, armor splattered with gore. Your elk was shot and you kept fighting, but then you were impaled by a sword," here, her voice trembled with unshed tears. "And I went to you and you'd already bled to death." She ended her tale on a choked sob.

"It was so awful I woke up screaming," she whispered. The Elvenking's face softened and he pulled her close to his chest, wrapping her in his arms as she cried. Her head barely came up to his collarbones, though she was no short thing.

"I'm here, _melamin,"_ he murmured. "I'm here." He stayed like that until she fell asleep standing up. Then he scooped her up and put her back to bed before returning to his own rooms, once more thinking affectionate thoughts of the one he called daughter.

This one hit me like a semi truck.

Melamin~ My Love

Tinuamin~ My Daughter


	4. Small One

A small knock on Thranduil's door had him looking up from his book.

"Come in," he called. The door quivered, opened a little bit, as if the hinges were rusted metal. Then it fell shut for a moment. Finally, it swung open and a small blur dashed inside before it could shut again.

The blur solidified into a small child about three years old, dressed in a simple, scoop necked blue gray tunic that went to her knees. There was a gray silk belt about her waist, the ends of it going between her leather clad legs. She wore no slippers, preferring bare feet.

Wide, storm grey eyes looked out from a heart shaped face framed by mahogany waves. Two braids at her temples kept most of it out of her vision. She approached with swift steps taken with the balls of her feet, for she was faster that way. She laid a hand on his knee as he leaned forward to better hear whatever she had to say.

"Ada," she said, voice naturally husky, even for a girl-child. "Will you come outside with me?" She tilted her head. Thranduil's allowed his lips to tug into a small smile.

"What do you wish to do outside, penneth?" he replied.

"I was hoping you'd maybe come outside and listen to me play my flute," she said, eyes hopeful.

"Bring your flute, Lissë," he used the nickname he'd given her when he accepted her as daughter. "We have time enough, today." She beamed at him, pretty white teeth lighting up her whole face.

"Okay," she replied. "Will you wait for me at the garden door?" He nodded and she dashed off to get her flute. He stood and marked his page before heading for the garden where he waited at the door and looked outside.

It was sunny and a faint breeze blew. No wonder she wanted to spend time with him outside. He turned when he heard the pattering of bare feet. Erulissë had her ivory flute in her hands and she was bright eyed and eager.

"Come on, Ada," she grabbed his hand and pulled him outside to her favorite spot underneath a cedar tree. They both sat, and she bargain picking long stemmed daisies. She showed him how to weave them together, saying he should have a flower crown as well as the wooden one. Then she played an old song that was often used to soothe frightened or sad things.

Thranduil's long fingers deftly wove a crown, but it was far too small for his head. He placed it on hers instead, ice blue eyes smiling at her when she gasped in delight. The hours passed quietly enough, brightened by sun, a certain penneth's tinkling laughter, and the Elvenking's deep voice speaking soft words instead of the sharp barbs reserved for Dwarves and those who tested his patience.

Thranduil's and Erulissë spend the day together. At this point, she has the body of a seven year old, but the mind of an twenty year old.

Ada ~ Dad, shortened from Adar which means Father.

Penneth ~ Small One

Tinuamin ~ My Daughter


	5. The Fallen

It was destined to be a sad day. Though the sun shined bright, her heart was darkened by loss. They fought to drive back the army as the healers hurried the refugees into the city, swords singing, enemies screaming as they died. Just as she beheaded one soldier, she saw the sword plunge through her stomach, saw the blood come bubbling out of her mouth to stain her bright skin. She screamed in rage and many fighters, allies and enemies alike shuddered at the sound. She fought her way over to them, mercilessly cutting down the opposing forces in her path.

She got to her and twirled her twin blades warning at the foes around her, grey eyes flashing light lightning. Many chose to flee her wrath, yet the stubborn ones with death wishes had their prayers answered. Finally, there was a cleared ring around her, and her armor was splattered with crimson as she fell to her knees and cradled her head. She felt for a pulse and felt a crack open up her heart. She wept and held her head to her breast, mourning her best friend.

The fight had slowly ended by the time she wiped away her tears. She stroked her hair, closed her eyelids, and removed the leaf ring from the third finger of her left hand, sliding it onto the second finger of her right.

"Goodbye, Mellonamin," she whispered, kissing her cool forehead. She gathered her into her arms, her weight much less than hers, and stood as her father came over and looked at the fallen warrior, his features softening from the harsh lines that battle always drew unto his face. He pulled her close.

"I know," he simply said. A single tear ran down her face. "She'll be honored in Valar."

She could only nod. He stood back to let her pass by him, her best friend's auburn battle braids hanging limply over her arm. Eldar and humans alike turned to watch her pass, both races tending to their wounded, making ready carts to carry their fallen back to their homelands. They watched as the beautiful, proud, kind hearted princess passed by with the smaller elleth in her arms, tear tracks on her face. It reminded the humans that though the Eldar were longer lived, they could still perish, could still mourn just as fiercely.


	6. From Skyrim to Middle Earth Part One

Sunlight filters through the ceiling of branches, shining upon sharp metal, braided hair and fierce expressions. Two creatures of deadly grace sparred with one another, both wielding twin blades, both with pointed ears. One pale haired, the other dark. The female blocked the pale one's attack with crossed blades, leaping back as he made a swipe at her stomach. She went for his shin with one hand the other going for his neck. He blocked the one going for his neck, but failed to block his shin.

He grimaced as a shallow cut opened up, but renewed his attack with a series of slashes, stabs and lunges. She parried them all, giving back some of her own. This would have continued for several more minutes, had he not let his guard slip for a fraction of a second. But it was all she needed and in a heartbeat she had one blade at his throat, the other at his chest. Ice blue eyes met with stormy grey. He let a smile grace his lips, eyes amused.

 _"Lle ume quel,"_ he said. She smiled and lowered her blades, sheathing them at her hips. He did the same.

 _"Diola lle, Ada,"_ she replied. "But considering that you are the one who has trained me, I say that it is no surprise." He raised an eyebrow.

"Is this cockiness I hear?" though he didn't show it, she knew he was amused.

"No, _Ada,"_ she smirked. "It is confidence and a compliment to my teacher." They began to walk away from the clearing, falling into step with one another.

"What are you going to do, _tinuamin,"_ he asked. "When I no longer have anything new to teach you?"

"What I have always done when I can no longer learn," she shrugged, looking at him. "I move on to another thing, but practice lest I become rusty and weak."

"And what do you suppose you will move onto next?" he returned her gaze.

"Perhaps I will work on my tracking skills," she shrugged again. "I do not know, _Ada._ I may not know even then."

"In any case," he said, sheathing his swords. "We have a visitor from a faraway place, called Skyrim. I hear that she is an Alchemist Apprentice."

"Skyrim?" she echoed. "I've never heard of it. What's her name? Do you know?" Thranduil fixed her with a stare, one that was returned with raising of a finely arched brow.

"You will find out, later," he replied. "When she and her company arrive."

 _"Auta miqula orqu, Ada,"_ she mumbled, but from the sharp look Thranduil gave her, he had heard it.

"If you weren't my daughter," he told her. She grinned.

 _"Amin sinta,"_ she kissed his cheek, sheathing her own blades. "You would cut my tongue out for such insolent irreverence." He allowed himself a small smile as he cupped the back of her head.

 _"Uma,"_ he said, striding towards the main hall. "I would. But I love you and our talks far too dearly to do that. Go put away your weapons and gear and meet me in the throne room."

"Yes, _Ada,"_ she nodded and strode to her rooms, while he did the same.

Translations

Llle ume quel-You do well

Diola lle, Ada-Thank you, Father.

Tinuamin-My daughter

Auta miqula orqu, Ada-Go kiss an Orc, Father

Amin Sinta-I know

Uma-yes


	7. From Skyrim to Middle Earth Part Two

King Thranduil sat in his throne, his long, slim fingers tapping lightly on the arm of it. His crown of interwoven sticks and berries rests upon his head, the ends of it accentuating his high cheekbones. He wears a greenish blue tunic of silk, and black deerskin pants, soft soled dark blue boots of the same material upon his feet. A black-haired, blue-eyed young elf woman stood in the doorway with her companions and a white wolf with golden eyes at her side. She has a couple deadly-looking daggers, what appeared to be an alchemy bag, exploration kit and a black crescent moon mark under her right eye. Her armor was dark, bluish black leather, styled in an almost leaf-like pattern, with a circlet of jade studded with sapphires on her brow. Her companions were just as strangely dressed, but all of them had an aura of strength. One of them, an auburn-haired elf woman with violet eyes, shuddered. The black-haired woman with red eyes snickered.

"Serana." The black-haired elf woman said without turning around.

"You are NO fun, Mikayla," Serana snapped. "Selana is more fun than you." Mikayla simply smiled then walked toward the throne. Her companions hurried after her. Mikayla bowed then fixed her blind blue eyes on the Elf King.

"Greetings, Elf King. I am Mikayla Black-Briar," Mikayla said. "These are my companions Karliah, Serana, Akhara, Ariana, Selana, Wind Runner, Lunaris and Solaris." Her companions bowed. Only Serana was reluctant. Lunaris tucked a strand of her long white hair behind her ear and regarded King Thranduil with gray eyes. Mikayla tilted her head as the throne room doors opened.

His daughter, Erulissë, stood in the doorway, wearing her usual black leather armor with silver stitching, her everyday long daggers on each hip. Her long waves of mahogany brown were pulled back from her face by nine small braids that had been braided until they were one, the rest of her hair falling loosely to her waist. She wore her traditional circlet of beaten silver, and the blue tattoo on her right jaw and the scar on her left temple stood out since they were not covered. Mikayla turned to face the young elf warrior woman.

The two elf women regarded each other.

"You must be Erulissë. You are his daughter," Mikayla said softly. "Karliah, tell me what she looks like." Karliah described Erulissë to Mikayla.

"How can she be an Alchemist's Apprentice if she cannot see?" Erulissë wondered. She was unaware she'd spoken aloud until Mikayla spoke, and mentally cringed at her uncharacteristic blunder.

"I can tell what a herb is by the shape, the feel, the smell. I may not be able to see but my skin is hypersensitive and I have a good sense of smell." Mikayla answered. King Thranduil rose from his throne and walked to stand in front of Mikayla. She faced him head bowed. He rested his hand on her hair, smoothed the long black strands gently, then tipped her head up, regarding her with his regal, ice blue gaze. The wolf at her side snarled and Mikayla stroked the white fur to calm the wolf.

"You and your companions are welcome here," King Thranduil said. "Erulissë will help you and your friends get settled."

The scarred, tattooed female bowed at the waist, right fist over her heart, the other behind her back, a gesture of warmth and respect for their visitors.

"Follow me in a moment, please," she said, then went over to her king and father, speaking in rapid Elven. After several fierce questions and replies, she seemed satisfied. She kissed his left cheek, which seemed to have some significance, for his icy gaze melted under the caress of that one action.

 _"Diola lle, Ada,"_ she said, then returned to them. "This way, if you will." She led them down the hall and made no effort to hide the curious glances she cast at them.

"What are you staring at?" Serana snapped. Mikayla turned to her friend.

"Serana, that was rude," Mikayla scolded then turned to Erulissë. "I apologize for my friend's behaviour. She didn't want to come with me but I insisted on her coming. Serana is one stubborn vampire."

"Out of curiosity, can you understand Elven?" Erulissë asked. Mikayla nodded. Suddenly she winced and placed a slim, elegant hand against her brow.

"Are you alright?" Erulissë asked. Mikayla nodded. The crescent moon under her eye began glowing. Mikayla spoke but her voice had a strange echo to it.

"Mother, what is it?" Mikayla asked. She listened to the response only she could hear. She turned to Karliah who groaned.

"Not again." Karliah muttered. Suddenly a tremor ran through Mikayla who blinked as the crescent moon ceased glowing.

"I hate it when Mother does that." She said. Karliah grimaced.

"How does Lady Nocturnal do that?" Karliah asked.

"She's a Daedra. Who knows how she does the things she does." Mikayla responded. Ariana -a red-haired, green-eyed girl- stumbled and fell. Mikayla was at her side instantly.

"I'm okay." Ariana said. She got back up. Lunaris spoke.

"Good thing Erik isn't here. The jerk would not let you forget you fell." Lunaris said. Ariana looked at Erulissë's scar curiosity in her green eyes.

"How did you get that?" Ariana asked.

"In a battle against the giant, bloodthirsty spiders that inhabit the darker parts of Mirkwood," she responded. "I hope none of you had the misfortune of meeting them. They're nasty things with a penchant for trying to eat dwarves especially," she added. "I have another one from the same battle on my thigh. Ah, here we are."

She paused in front of a giant, oaken door carved with intricate forest scenes and pushed them open.

"All of your rooms are connected by slightly hidden doors, but you seem like an intelligent lot, so you should be able to find them," Erulissë paused. "Are any of you hungry or anything?"

"You realize there is a slight problem, right?" Serana asked Mikayla in a soft voice.

"You'll manage. You always have." Mikayla replied just as softly. Solaris blinked twice then tapped Lunaris' shoulder.

"Hey, Mikayla? Your hands are on fire again." Lunaris said. Mikayla glanced at her hands. The flames went out. Ariana gave Mikayla a serious look.

"Not my fault, kiddo." Mikayla said.

"I hate being called that." Ariana said.

"I can't believe we're stuck with an eight-year-old." Akhara -who had been silent up until now- said. Wind Runner was shuddering.

"Is she alright?" Erulissë asked.

"Wind Runner hates spiders." Mikayla explained. The wolf at her side snarled softly.

"Stop that, Astral." Mikayla said patiently. Astral pressed closer to Mikayla then began to growl. Mikayla opened her mouth to speak but a blur suddenly shot from the room beyond. Astral grew huge then leapt, slamming into the O that dared attack her mistress. The Orc sent Astral flying. She slammed into the wall with a yelp.

"Astral!" Mikayla cried. She rushed to Astral's side and knelt down. She glared at the Orc fury radiating from her body and her eyes blazing.

 _"Forbidden Guardian I call to thee_

 _Rise from the ground to protect me_

 _SO MOTE IT BE!"_ Mikayla cried out, her voice echoing with power.

"Mikayla! NO! The last time you tried that spell the energy cost nearly killed you!" Ariana cried.

A creature rose from the ground and killed the Orc. It bowed to Mikayla then vanished. Mikayla fainted.

Never before had Erulissë been so shocked and enraged-never before had an Orc been able to penetrate the deep winding halls of Mirkwood, and her grey gaze turned into a tempest, the different shades of cloud swirling and crackling like grey lightning. Without realizing it, she had drawn her daggers and her lip was curled. Before she could act Astral whined nudging her mistress. Astral tipped back her head and howled. Ariana knelt at Mikayla's side.

The Elven warrior princess stirred herself out of her position, sheathing her daggers so fast they were a blur and put a staying hand out towards them.

"Stay here, please," she said. "I'll go and fetch Ada. He can help with Mikayla." She whirled and sprinted off towards where she knew he would be-his study. She barreled right in, forgoing the usual formal knock. Thranduil looked up from where he stood at his desk, dressed in some of his more casual court attire.

 _"Ada, amin anta lle tua,"_ she said. _"Asca,"_ she urged. His brow furrowed, for he knew she would not be so demanding in normal circumstances, and he followed her as they raced back to where she had left Mikayla and her companions.

Translations

Diola lle, Ada-Thank you, Father.

Amin anta lle tua-I need your help.

Asca-hurry.


End file.
